


there's always a home for you in my heart (i'll leave a light on)

by courageous_boss



Category: Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Best Friends, Brothers, Drabble Collection, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-09-02 19:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16793557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courageous_boss/pseuds/courageous_boss
Summary: A story where Wally and Damian put their favorite person back together.credit to story titleprompt list taken from





	1. “I need you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a little confusing. Basically, there are several arcs but the character dynamics are the same. I'll add the beginning of each arc here and link to them, but the fic can be read as a run-on piece as well. This is just for easier navigation. 
> 
> [Insomnia Arc](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16793557/chapters/39414964) (spans from “I need you.” to “Come with me.”)

Dick wedged the window open, cursing when he jammed it the wrong way and received a buzz of electricity. He scrambled to disarm the alarm but even that wouldn’t stop Barbara from calling to check in. He slunk into his apartment, scrunching his nose when the sharp, tear inspiriting stench of rotting potato hit him. Shit. He’d thought he’d thrown them out three days ago.

He hid in his room, peeling off his mask and undoing the latches on his boots. Once those were off, he began undoing the zipper on his suit. He swore again when it stuck, tugging and tugging but to no avail. Somewhere between the seventh and eight try, the itching in his eyes began burning and suddenly he was crying.

“Man up, Grayson,” he scolded into the darkness. His breath fogged up and there were goosebumps rising on his arms, but the switch for the heater was in the kitchen and he wasn’t prepared to face the mess he’d left out there.

He gave up on the zipper and collapsed into bed, curling up under his sheets.

* * *

“Dude! Your apartment stinks!”

Dick groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes.

His bedroom door was flung open and a messy mop of hair suck in, “If Alfred found out you were living like this he’d tan your backside.”

“Mornin’ Wally,” Dick managed, smiling a little. He felt rotten and the smell was still lingering, but he’d actually missed hanging with decent people recently. He’d make the effort for Wally.

“You’re still in your suit?” Wally frowned, stepping inside. His eyes ran over the room, calculating gaze sizing up the piles of clothes on the floor, the half-filled cups of water and the greasy, sweat-stained state of Dick’s bed sheets. Dick had never maintained the neatest room, but this was bordering on filthy.

“I couldn’t get the zipper down,” Dick murmured. Wally was talking really loudly and it was beginning to hurt his ears.

“Alright, sit up then. Let me help you,” Wally said, stepping over the mounds of mess and sitting gingerly on the edge of Dick’s bed. Gently, he unhooked Dick’s zipper from its clasp and pulled it down, slipping the thick, clingy fabric from Dick’s shoulders.

“Thanks, man,” Dick said, voice barely above a whisper.

Wally caught Dick’s hands, rubbing over his friend’s fingers. “There’s blood under your nails. When was the last time you took a bath?”

“Don’t fuss,” Dick pulled his hands away, hiding them against his chest. He wasn’t in the mood for mother-henning. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“What? I can't visit my best pal without an ulterior motive?”

“Well, it’s been two months since I last heard from you. So, I’m guessing the answer to that is no.”

Wally’s face twisted into a complex mess of emotions that Dick didn’t have the energy to decipher, so he shoved him off the bed. “Alright, fine. You go get us some breakfast and I’ll clean up a bit. You can pick my brains while we eat.”

Wally hesitated for a second but zapped off as soon as Dick sent him his trademark _do what I say, and do it now_ look. Once he was gone, Dick climbed out of bed. His limbs felt weak and wobbly and his head was pounding. He stripped and stashed his uniform and any other incrementing articles of clothing (read: two masks, a pair of gloves and a thong that he didn’t remember owning) before opening the windows to air the apartment out. He took and bath and changed into some sweats before settling on the couch. Wally had removed the potatoes and cleared the dirty dishes and with the air ventilating, the smell was quickly becoming bearable. His head wasn’t hurting too badly anymore, and his legs didn’t feel like wet noodles.

“I got some eggs and muffins and coffee!” Wally barged in, voice high and cherry. He was smiling, and his cheeks were flushed from his run.

Dick went for the coffee first, sipping tentatively until his stomach settled. Then he nibbled on the buttered muffins. Wally let him eat for a few minutes before he dove right back into conversation.

“So, how’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Dick said honestly. He fixed a stern look on his friend. “Why are you here?”

Wally worried his bottom between his teeth until the flesh was pink and a bit swollen. His fingers were fidgeting so quickly they were a blur and his feet were tap tapping away. finally, he worked up enough courage to blurt, “Babs called me.”

“And?” Dick took another sip of his coffee. He tipped it up as much as possible, sucking out the last drops.

“She’s worried about you, said you tripped your own alarm.”

“I was tired,” Dick said, shoulders rising defensively. “It’s not a big deal.”

“She said it’s happened three times this week. Four last week. Your apartment’s a mess, you have nothing edible in here, you look like you haven’t been eating or sleeping. Hell, when was the last time you took a bath?”

“I’m a big boy, Wally. I can take care of myself,” Dick spat, rising from his seat.

Wally stood too, towering over Dick’s slighter form. “Well, then fucking act like it! I can't be receiving calling from your family worrying that you’re falling back into bad habits.”

“Sorry to burden you,” Dick took a few steps back, grabbing his empty coffee cup and trying to force some more out of it. “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Don’t do that! You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well then, why are you really here? Do you have a case you need me to work? A lead you need followed?” Dick’s voice was rising higher and higher. His gaze was flitting about the room, breaths coming shorter and quicker.

Wally could pick up on the shaking in his voice and immediately took a seat. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was angry with you. I’m not.”

“I’ve been busy and I’m tired. I have work in a few hours and you’re wasting my time.”

Wally frowned. “I’m worried about you, Dick. I need – I need you to be okay.”

Dick’s eyes were wild when they finally met Wally’s concerned gaze. “What?”

“I care about you. You know I do. I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping in touch, that was my fault. I’m here now, though, and I want to help. Give me some of your cases, let me cover your patrols, I don’t care how. I just want to help you, Dick.”

Wally couldn’t say he was surprised when Dick’s cheeks grew wet and shiny. He just gathered his friend in a hug, tugging him onto the couch. Dick melted into his touch, breaths coming out in shudders.

“My head hurts,” Dick choked out, face pressed against Wally’s neck.

Wally’s fingers gently massaged his head, pressing lightly against Dick’s scalp. “Is this better?”

“Yeah, a bit.” Dick croaked.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Wally whispered, keeping his voice quiet more for his own sake than Dick’s headache. He’d promised himself that he’d never let Dick get like this again and he’d failed. “I’m not leaving you again, though.”

Dick just gripped Wally’s shirt tighter.


	2. “You’re family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss Poulos is based on the original DC character, [Deborah Poulos](http://dc.wikia.com/wiki/Deborah_Poulos_\(New_Earth\)). However, I aged her up and turned her into a sweet, middle-aged woman with a kind heart, a great sense of humor and a protection of Dick Grayson.

Wally had spent the better part of the day coaching Dick though an anxiety attack that seemed never-ending. The younger man was constantly shaking with nerves and despite the near purplish bruises under his eyes, Dick couldn’t settle down enough to sleep. The longer Wally looked at his friend, the more worried he became. Dick’s skin had grown pale and sickly and clung to his frame. He was losing muscle mass despite his overactive lifestyle and his ribs had begun to make an appearance. Barbara had been right to call him – any longer and Dick might have fallen off the deep end.

“You look hungry,” Dick said. He was sprawled out on the couch. Wally had tucked a blanket over him, hoping to make him comfortable enough to nap, but Dick refused.

Wally ignored him as he made quick work of tidying up around Dick’s apartment. The job was easy enough since most of the mess was empty fast food bags and wrappers or soiled clothes. However, sometimes, Wally would come across a picture or keepsake of Dick’s that made his stomach clench. Dick had pictures of his loved ones everywhere and the state of the picture frames revealed just how much attention he paid to them. Wally also found sweaters of his own and some of Dick’s brothers’. The thought of Dick being so lonely that he’d put on their clothes made him feel sick.

“Anyway, I have work in a bit,” Dick reminded him, curling up in a burrito on the couch.

That was another thing. “Babs didn’t mention that you were working again.”

“It’s not a big deal. Just some work at the library to keep the lights on.”

“I thought you agreed to stop working,” Wally said. He didn’t have to mention what had happened in Blüdhaven to make his point and he preferred not to. He still got nightmares about it; he couldn’t imagine what that ordeal had done to Dick’s psyche.

“This is completely different,” Dick grumbled, pushing himself to stand. He made his way into his bedroom, emerging dressed and grumpy.

“Can I come?” Wally asked.

“No,” Dick snapped. His face fell, and he sent Wally an apologetic look. “No offense, man, but you’d be bouncing off the walls there. You’ll be a distraction.”

“Alright, alright,” Wally chuckled, rubbing his hand over his chest. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure. You’re always welcome here,” Dick promised.

* * *

Dick’s job at the library was pretty easy. Technically, he was supposed to be sorting and shelving books, but the librarian was often too chatty to let him actually do that. Miss Poulos was the kind of person that made Dick remember why he put the suit on in the first place; she was smart, sweet, kind, funny and deserved to be protected. She chatted about her sons and the antics they were getting up to and listened whenever Dick was feeling brave enough to share stories about his own family.

Today was no different, so when she looked at him, eyes open and serious and asked, “So, what’s up with you, love?” Dick decided to share.

“My best friend visited me this morning,” he said, sitting on the table and looking down at her.

Dick wasn’t sure why Wally had spent the day cleaning up his apartment, but he wasn’t about to complain. It had been far too long since he’d had company and he’d honestly missed Wally. He hadn’t seen him in months and with everything that had been going on with Roy recently, it made it easier to breathe seeing his favorite speedster with a smile on his face.

“That’s nice. I trust he’d a good man?”

Dick chuckled. “He’s great. He’s always been there for me, you know? We kind of grew up together.”

Miss Poulos was looking at him with a soft, knowing look. She held only compassion in her eyes and Dick continued only because he knew that she’d never force him to share more than he was comfortable.

“He’s not like Roy,” Dick swallowed. “He’s never been in the spotlight like us so he’s more grounded. He doesn’t have all the lights flashing in his eyes. We used to joke that he was who only one who could get Roy and me to have our heads on straight.”

Wally had died though. And Roy had fallen apart, and Dick couldn’t remember how to be himself anymore.

“You should bring him in. I’d love to meet him,” Miss Poulos said.

Dick finally made an attempt to start working on the growing pile of books that needed to be sorted, but a loud, shrill shriek of his name interrupted any efforts.

“Richard!” a lanky, disheveled teenaged boy marched in, a backpack slung over his shoulder and his chest puffed out indignantly.

“Damian?” Dick pushed off of the counter and made quick steps towards his youngest brother. “What are you doing here?”

“Tt. Father is being a pain. I have run away and request to stay with you while he comes to his senses and realizes that he cannot live without me.”

Miss Poulos sniggered before clapping her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Carry on.”

Dick smiled sheepishly at her before beginning to fuss over Damian. The boy had obviously left in a hurry. He hadn’t done his hair and his clothes weren’t matched. Worse yet, Dick could see the turmoil shining in his eyes. Damian and Bruce were beginning to have fallings out that were nearly comparable to Dick’s disagreement with Bruce all those years ago that had caused him to leave Robin behind.

“Did you tell anyone you were leaving?” Dick asked.

“Alfred has been informed if that’s what you’re asking. Father will have to pull his head from his ass before he realizes I’m gone.”

Scolding Damian for his language was too hypocritical and the boy usually refrained from using obscene words, anyway. Damian must be very frazzled to be behaving like this and the thought made both worry and anger swell in his heart. Everyday Dick left Damian with Bruce was an extension of his trust in the man’s ability to learn from his mistakes and be a proper parent. If Bruce failed Damian, the man was going to lose more than one son.

“You can stay with me,” Dick said, suddenly a hundred times more grateful that Wally had cleaned up for him. “I’m sure you can let yourself in. I’ll meet you when my shift is over.”

“No dear, you can go home early,” Miss Poulos offered.

“Are you sure? I haven’t really done anything yet,” Dick said.

“I insist. Go help your brother.”

Damian’s eyes widened, puzzling over how the woman could know they were brothers. Damian had no resemblance to Dick and for the woman to pick up their relationship solely based on clues from their conversation was unlikely.

“You brother has brought pictures of you and your siblings in for me to see and regularly updates me on your wellbeing,” Miss Poulos explained, smile curling with mischief as Dick’s cheeks colored bright red. She was even more delighted to see the bristly teenager begin blushing as well.

“Are you sure I can stay with you, Grayson?” Damian asked, voice strong and steady.

Dick had learned long ago how to read the subtler forms of communication his brother employed. He could read the tilt of his chin, the width of his stance of the tenseness of his shoulders. Damian was worried that Dick was doing to turn him away.

“Of course, Dami. You’re family. Family’s always welcomed with me.”


	3. “I care about you.”

His headache began somewhere between Damian turning up the volume on his videogame and Dick’s poor attempt at cooking. It hurt all the way down to his stomach and Dick kept having to step away from the stove to stifle his retches into his elbow. Every time there was a sudden, loud nose from the TV, the spikes clawed deeper into his brain, but Dick refused to ask his brother to turn it off.

He knew that Damian was hurting in inside. He tried to hide it with feigned nonchalance and aloofness, but Dick could see how much Bruce’s behaviour was affecting him. Worse yet, he understood. Those last few months as Robin were some of the worst of his life. He’d always felt one misstep from Bruce finally admitting that he’d made a mistake in taking him in. It had been like walking on eggshells in the Cave. Dick couldn’t imagine how Damian was faring with his added fragile self-esteem.

“Pasta’s almost finished, Dami,” Dick said, unable to raise his voice much louder than a whisper. Even that made the back of his eyes throb.

“Fine, I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Damian grumbled, fingers hard at work and brows bent in concentration. He’d long since beaten the game and was now searching for Easter Eggs. Dick let him be; it always lightened his chest when he saw Damian action more like a teenager than a soldier.

He placed a hand atop Damian’s head, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his crown. “Alright, kiddo. I’m heading to bed, okay?”

When Damian grunted in acknowledgement, Dick retreated to his bedroom. He sealed off the sliver of free space underneath his door to make his room as soundproof as possible and gingerly but himself to bed. Every small movement sent shocks through his brain in a way that was scarily similar to the healing would of a bullet to the head.

He shut his eyes and willed himself to succumb to rest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d managed to get more than two hours of sleep. His schedule had picked up to hectic about two months earlier and he’d had to sacrifice his sleep for a mission. Since then, though, he’d had more than enough time for resting. He just couldn’t manage to stay asleep. His mind was always on guard, rousing at any sound or movement in the apartment or at the window. What little sleep he did manage was unrestful, plagued with a deep sense of urgency.

Dick lay as straight as a rod, afraid to move and unwilling to give up on sleeping for nearly four hours until his headache began to subside. Damian’s movements had long since ended and once again, Dick felt a strange sense of loneliness. He’d been able to rationalize it before – after all, after moving from a circus into Bruce’s cave, both places always filled to the brim with colourful people and personalities, he’d grown accustomed to having people around him. Whether he was as home or working with a team, he’d always found himself with a huge support system.

Recently, though, with all that had been going on with Roy, Bruce preparing to tie the knot, and his family growing up and setting off in new directions, Dick had found himself increasingly and utterly alone. There was no longer anyone willing to stay up night with. No one to binge silly TV shows with. No one to go to the clubs with. No one pestering him with outrageous demands of arcades and library visits. 

However, even with his youngest brother sleeping one wall away, Dick still felt an ache in his core that he could only describe as loneliness.

“I must be going mad,” Dick muttered into the still air.

“Yes, you must,” a disgruntled, teenaged voice responded, scaring the heebie-jeebies out of Dick.

“Arghh!” Dick yelled, rolling out of bed and preparing to face his intruder.

Which – bad idea. _Really bad idea._

Dick felt the ground wobble and then his stomach was flipping as he fell.

“You idiot!” Damian snapped, reaching out to steady his brother. He led Dick to sit on the edge of the bed, holding his hands for support.

“Wha…” Dick moaned, looking and sounding like his stomach had switched places with his throat.

“Tt,” Damian glared. “Did you really think I was so incompetent to not notice your compromised health?”

Damian had expected Dick to pull some mightier-than-thou spew and pretend that he was above any illness and try to convince him that he was fine. Instead, Dick’s face turned a sickly shade of green.

“I… I feel sick,” Dick said, voice softer than cotton, barely pieced together.

“What kind of sick? Head? Stomach? Bones?”

“All,” Dick said, looking paler by the second. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Alright, let’s get you to the bathroom,” Damian moved to get Dick to stand, but the older boy yelped in pain, hands rising to grip at his hair.

“Hurts too much. Can’t move. Please don’t make me move,” Dick said.

Damian was horrified to see tears spilling from the edges of Dick’s eyes.

“Alright,” Damian whispered, piecing together Dick’s symptoms. “I’ll get a bucket. Don’t be sick yet, okay?”

He didn’t wait for a response, rushing off. He grabbed a bowl from the kitchen, placing it in Dick’s lap just in time for Dick to flop over and begin hurling. There wasn’t much food in his stomach so all that came up was stomach acid. Damian sat by his side, holding his hair back and rubbing his back. When Dick finally stopped vomiting, he pulled the bowl away carefully and helped ease Dick into a lying down position.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re fine,” Damian whispered.

Dick’s eyes had glossed over, face scrunched up in pain and thoughts caught up in whatever what wrecking his body. He was sweating and trembling, and his hands were clinched into tight fists. After tucking him in, Damian disposed of the vomit and grabbed a bottle of cold water. He let Dick sip it through a straw while watching over his brother worriedly. He’d never seen anyone as sick as this without being exposed to a toxin and with how suddenly it overtook him, it would have had to be something Dick encountered in the apartment. Which was impossible – he’d been watching Dick the whole time.

“Dami?” Dick finally mumbled, a hint of recognition on his eyes.

“Yes. It’s me.”

“I _really_ don’t feel good,” Dick whispered.

“I know,” Damian said, heart heavy in his chest.

“I want it to stop,” there were tears leaking down Dick’s cheeks again. “Please, make it stop.”


	4. “Can I join you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Wally join forces.

“What the hell?” Wally dropped the bags of food on the kitchen table, rushing over to Dick’s prone form. Dick and Damian were laid out on the couch, squashed together and sharing a bowl of microwaved popcorn. The two boys were watching junk television and doing their best to ignore each other.

“Oh, Wally. Hey,” Dick mumbled, grabbing another handful of popcorn before moving the bowl to make a sliver of space for Wally to sit.

“What’s the brat doing here?” Wally glared at Damian, averting his eyes when the young boy returned the glare with the fires of Hell burning behind his eyes. He and Damian had a prickly relationship, which, Wally supposed, was an appropriate way to describe the relationships Damian formed with anyone except Dick, Bruce, and the kid’s two friends: Jon and Colin. Dick had once said that they couldn’t get along because they were both too jealous whenever Dick showed one attention over the other, but Wally was pretty sure that Damian was just a devious, bratty kid.

“B’s giving him a hard time, so he’ll be staying here for a while,” Dick said, patting the tiny spot beside him invitingly. There was no way Wally could fit on the couch without it turning into a three-person cuddle fest, but Wally was sure Dick was well aware of that.

“West,” Damian said shortly, nodding once before staring resolutely at the television.

“How are you expecting to take care of a kid when you can barely take care of yourself?” Wally asked, face heating and voice rising a bit louder than he’d intended it to. “No offense, dude, but you look like shit.”

“And yet, I’m offended,” Dick snapped. “I’m fine, Damian’s fine. What’s the problem?”

Wally felt his ears heating up and clenched his fists to stop his hands from vibrating. Dick was definitely not _fine_. He looked like shit. His skin was pasty and oily and the bags under his eyes had grown bags. He’s taken on a sickly, yellow color and his eyes were near bloodshot. His frame was growing slimmer and slimmer and Wally knew that if he asked, Dick wouldn’t be able to tell him the last time he’d had a proper meal.

“Come West,” Damian sighed, standing with another sigh and looking at Wally like he was the biggest fool in the world. “I must speak to you in the other room.”

Wally wasn’t too fond of being alone with a kid that regularly boasted of being a decedent of both the League of Assassins and the Dark Knight, but he followed the kid. Hopefully a few minutes away from the sorry sight of his friend would calm him down and he’d be able to constructively tackle Dick’s growing list of problems.

“You have no right to speak to Grayson that way in his own home,” Damian clipped once he’d shut them inside Dick’s bedroom.

Wally noticed that the windows were open and the sheets had been changed, but he wasn’t quite sure whether Dick or Damian had been responsible, or why they’d found the need. When he turned to Damian, the boy was looking at him with a haunted look.

“Look, kid. Your brother’s –”

“Grayson is unwell,” Damian said, “I am unsure how long he has been hiding it. Unfortunately, I have been away lately with Jon. I was not aware of the problem until I arrived yesterday.”

“I know. I came to visit the day before. I was going to take care of him,” Wally said, appalled by the sudden urge to place a comforting hand on Damian’s shoulder.

“I don’t think he’s been sleeping. Or eating properly. He was sick last night and since then, I haven’t gotten him to sleep and all he’s eating is popcorn and soda,” Damian reported, eyebrows bent and face slackening to reveal utter concern.

Wally knew that Dick had a tendency for self-punishment. He’d been stuck in the Speed Force during most of Dick’s worst years, so he hadn’t bared witness to the worst of Dick’s sacrifices and failures, but he’d seen the effects they’d had on his friend. He’d seen how the Cowl had darkened the light in Dick’s eyes, he’d noticed how Dick had grown overprotective of his family ever since Jason had been murdered, he’d learned not to mention Blüdhaven or any of the events that had occurred while Dick had been living there and he also knew that Dick – without fail – would blame himself for anything that went wrong with his life.

It hadn’t always been that way; when they were younger and fresh into their preteens, Dick had confided in Wally and Roy a lot and had actually trusted them to help him. With all that had happened with Roy and with Wally constantly popping in and out of Dick’s life on a whim, Dick had stopped sharing his fears or problems with his friends.

Wally had assumed that Dick had at least been relying on his brothers for assistance, but he’d obviously been wrong.

“Here’s what, kiddo. Why don’t we both take care of him together? I know Bruce can be a real ass sometimes,” Wally had been Dick’s main counselor when they’d been children and Bruce had been distant and smothering all at the same time. “I don’t have any real plans right now, so I’m going to stick around.”

“Tt,” Damian sneered, “I am perfectly capable of caring for Grayson on my own.”

“I know, trust me. Dick never misses a chance to blabber on about how great and wonderful you are,” Wally teased, mostly for the blush that crept over Damian’s cheeks. “But what I’m saying is that you don’t have to do it alone. I want to help.”

Damian stared Wally down for a few moments before sighing egregiously. “I guess that would be acceptable.”

“Great!” Wally smirked. “Let’s go turn that mess on the couch back into a functional person again.”

“Don’t patronize me, West,” Damian sniped, lips tilted in a snarl, “Grayson has no potential of being functional. He’s a clingy man-child on the best of days.”

Wally chuckled, “You got that right, kid. And a clingy octopus-child on the worst.”


	5. “You made your choice.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Wally begin working on solving Dick's insomnia. Attempt number one: keeping bedtime and wake time consistent from day to day.

“You know, I never thought I’d be going on a covert mission with a Robin again,” Wally winked, nudging Damian playfully.

Damian scowled, “From what I’ve heard, your missions never remained _covert_ , mostly in part to you.”

The young boy looked so annoyed – _so tortured_ – to have to be spending any amount of time with him that Wally couldn’t help himself. He ruffled Damian’s hair, “Don’t be a spoilsport. You might have fun.”

Damian – in a feat that Wally hadn’t thought possible – looked even more petulant, frown growing so deep that Wally feared it might be permanent. He fussed to fix his hair, stomping back into the living room.

“Grayson, West and I will be accompanying you to your job at the library today,” Damian announced.

Dick was sprawled out on the couch, blinking lazily. His gaze was hazy, and he looked on the verge of falling asleep. If Damian hadn’t made several unsuccessful attempts to get him from that stage to actually being asleep, he would have felt guilty for keeping his brother awake. As it stood, Damian knew that Dick was having trouble sleeping. Whether it was that he couldn’t fall asleep or didn’t want to, that was the mystery.

“Oh,” Dick rubbed at his eyes, blinked quickly and deliberately for a few moments. “How come?”

“Nothing of great importance,” Damian shrugged, returning to his spot at Dick’s side. “There’s just something we would like to research. We won’t distract you from your work of course.”

Dick suddenly looked more alert, frowning suspiciously at Wally over Damian’s shoulder. “You’re sure you’ll keep yourself occupied? I can't spend my shift babysitting either of you, you know.”

“Jeez,” Wally scoffed, “have some faith in a guy, would you?”

“If you say so,” Dick mused, looking not at all convinced.

* * *

Miss Poulos must have noticed Dick’s fatigue also because as soon as she saw him, she tutted in disapproval. “Are you ill?”

Dick had the decency to look sheepish, waving her off with an excuse of being up late. “No big deal. I’m fine for working, no problem.”

She didn’t look convinced, shooing him off to sort some books and keeping him in sight at all times. She alternated between checking on Dick’s slow, clumsy attempt at the Dewey Decimal System and the hushed, top-secret research going on at the table at the furthest corner.

Dick’s friend and brother – Wally and Damian as she’d been told – were pouring over thick books and jotting down notes very seriously. They kept their chatter to a whispered level and often sent looks at Dick. What they were conspiring at went unknown to her, but she could only hope they weren’t up to no good.

Miss Poulos sent Dick off early, stopping him when she caught him nodding off while standing up.

“No more all-nighters for you, boy,” she wagged a scolding finger at him. “Your body can't handle it.”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” he promised, a guilty, pink hue settling on his cheeks.

“It better not,” she said to him. Then, to his company, she said, “You take good care of him, okay? God knows he won’t do it himself.”

Dick blushed deep red as Wally nodded and Damian crossed a hand over his chest and nodded solemnly.

“I give you my word,” he said, face grim and voice serious.

* * *

Once they were home, Dick slunk off to his room, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “I’m just going to lay down for a bit. Try to catch a few minutes sleep.”

Damian and Wally shared a glance that went unnoticed to Dick, who was far too busy trying to keep steady on his feet. His head felt like his brains had been scooped out and replaced with cotton. He was so, so sleepy. He’d never felt like this before. Even in the early days, when Bruce had been training him to survive on power naps and protein bars, he’d never felt so exhausted. It was a tiredness that crept down to his bones.

“How about we watch a movie instead?” Wally suggested, already going to set up the cable. He pulled up something that looked chock full of action scenes and dialogue. “This looks good.”

Dick shook his head. “Sorry, Walls. I’m really tired.”

Damian and Wally looked at each other. Time for plan B.

Damian scratched the back of his neck, scuffing his shoe on the ground. “Actually, Dick. I’m kind of hungry.”

“You can order out,” Dick said, voice soft and pleading. He really, really wanted to crash in his bed. “There are take-out menus on the counter. You can pick whatever you want. You know where my wallet is.”

“Can you make me something instead?” Damian asked, a strange, conflicted yet determined look crossing his face. “Please?”

Dick sighed. There was no way he could refuse Damian now. No matter how tired he was, he’d never let the boy go hungry. Casting one last, longing look at his bedroom door, Dick passed into the kitchen. Distantly, a spiteful, angry acknowledgment that he wouldn’t have actually fallen asleep even if he’d been allowed to try crossed his mind. He didn’t linger long on the thought. There was no point fretting over things he couldn’t change – especially when he had company over.

He didn’t have much of an appetite, so he left to take a bath once dinner was ready, collapsing into bed after. This time, neither Wally nor Damian stopped him, and Dick didn’t dare question them. Instead, he curled up under the thick, quilt blanket Alfred had gifted him when he’d first moved out of the Manor and tried to sleep.

Unsurprisingly, and frustratingly, sleep never came.

* * *

Dick noticed a strange pattern develop over the next couple of days. Like clockwork, Wally would come into his bedroom every day at eight and climb into bed.

“Sleep well?” he’d ask, even as he frowned over the darkening circles underneath Dick’s eyes.

Self-consciously, Dick would rub at them, scrubbing to shoo the tiredness away as he lied, “Yes. You?”

Wally would send him a look, one developed after too many sleepovers and pizza-nights together. There was no way he could lie to Wally, especially about something he could hardly hide. They never spoke about it though, just made their way into the kitchen to share a cup of coffee. Damian would always be there, eyes squinty and brows furrowed in intense concentration as he studied Dick’s slimming from. He let his disapproval show much more transparently.

“Tt, you need your rest, Grayson,” Damian would say. He always made sure to keep any judgment or condensation from his voice. Dick never responded, couldn’t bring up the nightmares and visions that were almost as bad as the wall that had placed itself between his mind and his ability to sleep.

They’d eat a small amount of food together and then laze around until Dick’s shift at the library. Damian still wasn’t patrolling – still waiting for Bruce to call and beg for him to come home – and Wally didn’t have anything better to do. By the time his shirt was over, Dick would feel exhaustion creeping into his bones. However, Damian and Wally never let him lie down when he got home. they’d come up with some chore or activity that just _had to be done_ to keep him busy.

Eventually, they’d get bored of harassing him and Dick would sneak away to his bedroom and try to force himself to sleep. He never managed to make it past two hours and the lack of sleep was beginning to make him anxious and unstable.

Still, Dick didn’t have much time to dwell on this because soon, Wally would come into his room and the cycle would repeat.

* * *

“It’s not working,” Wally sighed, scratching a deep, messy line onto the page.

Feeling like he didn’t have enough control of the situation, Damian snatched the page away. “Never mind that. It was a stupid idea anyway.”

“Hey!” Wally pouted.

“Let’s see. The next thing we have to do is limit his daytime sleeping. We can't expect him to sleep if he lays around all day,” Damian read off.

Wally nodded. Then, he took a moment to truly appreciate the worried, determined look morphing Damian’s features.

“Don’t get too worked up,” Wally said, gripping Damian’s shoulder gently, “we’ll have him fixed up I no time. He’ll be back to bouncing around and you’ll regret not appreciating how quiet he’s being.”

Damian pulled away from the hold, scowling. “I have no doubt in my ability to rectify Grayson’s sleeping problem.”

Wally grinned, it sure was fun messing with the kid. He ruffled Damian’s hair, thrilling annoyingly, “If you say so, kiddo.”


End file.
